After Hell
by Naarci
Summary: One year that you disappear. One year that we're looking for you, convinced that you're dead. One year and I finally find you, disfigured, tired of living, and these words, that you repeat: "Don't tell anything, to anyone."
1. The broken clock

You want to read _AfterHell_ but you don't know _Undertale_? Please, check my account on _Deviant Art_ (Naarci). Gallery – AU: AfterHell – _What you should know to read AfterHell_

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Hey!

Here is a horrible fanfiction on _Undertale _by Toby Fox!

Originally, _AfterHell_ is in french but two wonderful people helped me translate it: Lumargann and AGuardianOfDreams (on _Deviant Art_) I can never thank them enough!

Enjoy!

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The broken clock

It's murky. In the bar, monsters are coming and are staying, in a brouhaha as strong as worried. They are greeting each other, exchanging whispers, are laughing and drinking. Nothing changes. Trough a window pane, an armed human regularly looks inside the room only to turn away again. Grillby is pouring one drink, two drinks, three drinks. He just has to take a look at the client to know what he wants; they always order the same thing, at the same hour. Smiles and coins are exchanged and everything continues like a scratched disc that would always repeat the same notes.

Minutes tick by. Soon, as usual, Papyrus comes in, leaving in his wake a glacial silence. He's standing with his back hunched, head lowered, as if the weight of the very air is crushing him. All he has on him is a long black mantle that looks more like a dress.

He moves forward like a ghost, without a word, and he sits down at the counter. All the monsters are staring at him, maybe expecting him to start to cry, or to laugh. But nothing happens. Outside, an armed human knocks at the window, asking if everything's okay, some nod heads. The barman takes a glass, fills it up with milk and puts it in front of the skeleton. The jingling of coins that hit the wood of the table resonates, Grillby glimpses the face of the consumer for a moment, he sees his dark rings etched in his bones, his cheeks still damp, the distress in his pupils. They remain silent. Papyrus stares at his glass. He will not touch it. During the few hours that will follow, he will stay like this. But, today, a monster decides to not respect the ritual. He goes toward Papyrus and breaks the walls surrounding him.

"Hi. How are you?"

The skeleton turns towards him but doesn't reply. His interlocutor doesn't take offense, after all, everybody knows.

"You haven't any news yet?"

His eye sockets widen, this question is more painful than a thump. His face casts a shadow further, he restrains the tears but fails, so just settles for putting his head down to hide them while he shook his head. No, there wasn't any news.

Then the silence that reigned up to that point cracks and whispers are heard.

"Still not?"

"I can't imagine his pain…"

"It could have happened to any of us…"

The monster leaves Papyrus. Discussions intensify, change subject, let's not talk about it, and the atmosphere wrongly cheerful starts again, like always. Grillby distractedly wipes a glass. An armed human passes behind the window. The skeleton stares at the floor.

Each behavior is regulated in advance and is repeated constantly. A few hours pass and Undyne comes into the bar. She greets those who accost her, reassures others, she doesn't smile. She makes a polite nod to Grillby then leans over to Papyrus. All her movements are sweating with concern. Carefully, to not push her friend, she repeats to him the same words as yesterday, and as the day before yesterday, and as every day.

"Papyrus? Let's go home, it's late."

He looks at her, a little lost, then, seeming to recognize her, he nods and stands up. A movement towards the barman to wish him a good evening and the two friends go out, the guard supporting the skeleton. Monsters observe them leaving, feeling embarrassed by so much sadness, unaware of their own discomfort; they shrug their shoulders and pick their lively conversation up again. An armed human passes behind the window. Grillby cleans another glass.

Then, little by little, the bar empties. The last customers say goodbye to the human fire and leave him alone. Then, he sweeps the room, checks his stocks and smokes a cigarette outside. When he's finished, he waits a little. He knows he will come, as every evening, at the same hour. He arrives.

Papyrus was moving forward slowly in the snow. He stops in front of Grillby and then pronounces the only words of his days.

"If you have news… tell me, please…"

The barman could have reassured him, told him he already knew, that he repeats it to him every day… He keeps silent. He understands his pain but at the same time, he feels that already for too long, they aren't part of the same world anymore. He managed to hang on, the other one let himself sink alongside of the dead.

"As soon as I have news, I will tell you."

The skeleton smiles to thank him, a strange smile, nearly a morbid grimace. Then he returns to the cold and the street lamps are lighting up his twisted shape that drags itself along. Grillby follows it with his eyes.

Snowflakes begin to fall, wrapping the landscape in a veil of exhaustion that crystallizes once again the city. But, an alarming detail breaks the strange routine. A shadow stands under the porch of a house. Huddled at the wall, it isn't moving and is staring straight ahead at the place where the shape of Papyrus just disappeared, as if, for it, nothing existed but this distant form.

Grillby doesn't know this shadow, and it worries him. Due to the last events, he's always on guard and watches the surroundings, just in case. Then he approaches it. He realizes that it's standing, it's sticking to the wall, and it doesn't hear him. He puts a hand on its shoulder; it jumps.

"Excuse me…"

It turns slightly its face toward him, revealing an eye, or rather an empty orbit. The barman pulls his hand back quickly, as if it had been burned. He hesitates, his voice trembles.

"Sans…?"

The shadow moves, reveals a little more of his face.

"Grillby" it murmurs.

Then the seconds speed up, life regains a consistence, living start breathing again. Time explodes.


	2. Don't say anything

Don't say anything

Grillby has difficulty calming down his heart rate. He doesn't know where to begin, an avalanche of questions collapses on him, and this word: how? How can you be here today? I thought you were dead.

"Sans, is that really you?"

He approached again but, in front of him, the shadow moves back. His face still half hidden, he casts worried glances around them.

"Are you being chased?" the barman asks in a low voice.

Sans let his gaze fix on his friend for a few seconds. "I…" He starts but his broken voice gets lost in the snowflakes. He turns around, observing something intensely, the place where his brother has gone.

"I mustn't be seen..." he whispers.

Grillby also looks at their surroundings, wary, but there is no monster, nor guard.

"We could go at your home..."

"No!" he cuts him short, instinctively bringing a hand up to the part of his face that is still hidden. "Papyrus… Papyrus mustn't see me… Nobody can know that I'm here." He takes risks staying here, under the snow, near a street lamp, in plain view.

The barman, confused, can't help asking. "Why? He has been waiting for so long… He is desperate…"

The skeleton lowers his head and clenches his fists. He says something that his friend can't hear, so this one makes him repeat.

"How long?" asks the shadow. "How long has he been waiting for me? Tell it to me."

And all the anguish of the world is in this trembling voice.

"It's been…" Grillby hesitates. His friend seems on the brink of collapse so he doesn't know what to do, soften the reality, tell him the truth, all those hours, all those minutes spent without him, waiting for him, and the time had no sense anymore. "It's been more than one year."

Sans cushion the blow. A whole year away from his loved ones, one year of dust that the wind blows away. He tightens the teeth and doesn't move anymore. Maybe he would remained frozen like that forever.

The barman thinks he hears a noise, but he is hallucinating.

"Let's go to my home."

His friend nods in silence. They start walking, the bar is a few steps away. The skeleton limps. One of his legs supports him with difficulty, and he moves forward slowly. Under the weary fabric that he's using to hide himself, he's naked. Grillby doesn't say anything, but feels his stomach twist to this vision.

They enter the establishment; the fire man turns on the light.

"Eh. Looks exactly like the bar in the Underground" Sans notices.

He approaches a table, and runs his fingers over it. They really are the same as before. He never thought he'd see this room again. His hand is shaking; he quickly hides it.

Grillby moves toward him.

"Do you need anything? You want to sleep or… You are hungry maybe? Or…"

Stains on the floor grab his attention. Small red droplets have landed on the floor.

"Are you hurt?" He's startled.

"It's nothing."

"Sans, you… you were limping. You need to get examined."

"Don't call anyone!" For the second time, he raises his voice but, immediately, he picks up his dragging voice again. "I'm fine. I've already been… treated." The last word seems to have cost him. His face hardens. "I… I beg ya, don't tell anyone I'm here. I wasn't suppose to meet someone… Please, do it for me."

"But… Why?"

"I don't want… I don't want him to see me like that."

Once again, he brings the hand to the part of his face still invisible.

"What are you hiding?"

"You don't want to see this."

Grillby sighs with grief. He places himself as high as his friend.

"Sans… I'm ready to keep quiet, to hide you if I have to but you have to show me. Please."

The skeleton laughs with bitterness. But, as the barman doesn't move, he shrugs his shoulders.

"Whatever you want."

He drops the fabric of his face and he removes his hand.

Sans looks exhausted. His pupils shiver and shine very weakly. Dark circles were dug under its orbits, as well as hard features. Some mud — or blood — colors his bones. He is covered with scratches and bruises. But above all, his left socket is enlarged by a huge hole of about fifteen centimeters. It's like a hit had shattered part of his skull. From this wound come cracks that zigzag to the back of his head. Where three cracks meet, they form a small triangle whose inside is missing.

Disfigured. He was disfigured. And unrecognizable.

Grillby says nothing. In front of him, the skeleton, awkward, ends up turning and puts his hand back in front of his wound, even though it can be seen between the fingers.

"Do you need anything?" his friend asks.

"A shower would be good."

The human fire nods.

"I will cook you something in the meanwhile."

"Thanks."

The barman's apartment is upstairs. Sans climbs the steps of the stairs one by one, slowly. As he refuses his help, Grillby just settles to stand behind, in case he would fall. When they reach the top, he finds for him some clothes — the smallest he has — and Sans locks himself in the bathroom.

He takes off the long single fabric he's wearing and throws it in a corner. He only wants one thing: to remove the traces he has on his body. As if, at the same time that the marks, he could get rid of what he has lived, tear this past out of himself, let himself flow with the water and disappear into the sewers.

A movement grabs his attention, and he ends up facing his reflection. His trembling hand meets the center of all the fissures that his skull has. He has already observed himself in a window or a puddle of water, he knows what he looks like, but he didn't expect it to be so horrible. He had well earned his name of monster now. It was too horrible.

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Hey!

Thanks for reading!

Yeah, very cheerful u.u What did you think? What could have happened to Sans? Don't hesitated to comment ^^


	3. How broken are you?

How broken are you?

Grillby is waiting patiently, sitting in front of the dining table where a dish cooling down has been set. The last minutes repeat themselves in a loop in his head. More than one year that he's searched for Sans, and in what state he finds him? He will not ask what happened to him. His friend seems too lost to talk about anything. The problem is, the barman isn't a doctor and the skeleton needs treatment, even if he says the opposite. How is he going to help him get better?

The picture of Papyrus appears to his mind. Lying to him is going to be terrible. He would really like to run to his house, to inform him that his brother is alive. He won't do it. Not right away. Sans must need some days for himself before seeing him. Then, everything will fall into place.

A strange sound disturbs him from his thoughts. He stands up and crosses the hallway. He stops in front of the bathroom door and calls his friend but this one doesn't answer.

The sound is heard again — it's a sound of swallowing. It comes from the toilets. The door is half-opened, Grillby can see that his friend spit something in the bowl.

"Sans? Are you okay?" He's worried.

The skeleton leaned against the wall and let himself slide.

"It's nothing" he whispers.

A purple liquid that Grillby has never seen drips from his mouth. Sans wipes it with the back of his hand.

"It's nothing" he repeats.

"Do you know what is this?"

The skeleton sighs. He now seems to be close to fainting. The pupil of his destroyed left socket has completely disappeared; the other has become desperately blurry.

"It's anti-magic."

Anti-magic. This word, terrible, is like a thump. Most monsters think Sans is dead just because he has the ability to teleport and, if he really had been kidnapped, it would have been simple for him to come back. Expect that a product anti-magic was created at the time of the arrival of the monsters at the surface, three years ago. But, what makes Grillby nervous at this moment, is the fact that magic is vital to the monsters. Their whole body works through it and deprived of it, they simply die. Was there an attempt to kill Sans?

"You know how to take it out of your body?" he finally asks, anxious.

"I do what I can."

Sans closes his single orbit. He barely breathes. He now wears a pair of pants that are too big for him and a t-shirt that allows to see his forearms. The radius bone of the right arm is broken in two near the wrist and a long piece lamentably hangs. Grillby wonders how many other such terrible wounds his friend is hiding.

"There is no other way to take out this anti-magic? Gaster" he continues "might be able to treat you."

"Eh. I avoid my brother, but you suggest to me to see my father?"

Grillby doesn't know how answer. Sans had never ever admitted that Gaster was his progenitor. For some unknown reason, he hates him, and although everybody suspects that they are somehow bound, nobody could prove that it wasn't only rumors.

The skeleton settles back as much as he can, his back still against the wall, and sighs. He coughs and some purple liquid splashes his hand. He closes his socket, exhausted.

"Sans, you..."

"Do what you want, Grillby but Papyrus should know nothing. Please."

"Yes. Yes, all right. Stay here, I'll be quick."

He abandons his friend and runs into the living room, where he finds his telephone. He calls the scientist one time, two times, three times. He glances towards the clock hanging on the wall. Soon two o'clock in the morning. He phones directly to the laboratory. At the first ringtone, a sleepy voice answers him.

"Yes, Grillby?"

"I need you, it's urgent. I can't give you all the details but..."

"What's that for?"

"Treat someone."

"What do they have?"

"Uh… Various wounds more or less serious and… and anti-magic in the body."

"Are you at your home?"

"Yes."

"I'm coming."

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The relation between Sans and Grillby is simple: they are best friend. But the relation between Sans and Gaster is totally complex and freaky!

Don't hesitated to comment ^^ Please, if you see mistake, tell me!


	4. Hey, dad

Hey, dad

Gaster arrives with a full bag on the back and a suitcase, full too. Grillby is waiting for him at the entrance of the bar. They get straight to the point.

"What is going on?" Asks the scientist.

"He is… He told me that he has been treated" he whispers "but I don't know how true it is and…"

"Who's this, he?"

"It's… Sans."

Gaster stops. He takes the time to let the information sink into him and spread in all his being, making him shiver. He thinks about Papyrus who has been affirming and repeating for one year that his brother is alive, that they have to keep looking for him, at any cost, because there is still hope. He was right. He wasn't crazy. Sans is finally back.

However, he's injured. The scientist mustn't be overwhelmed by feelings and must stay calm until his son is out of danger. So he retains his emotions and he lets the human fire guide him to the first floor.

"He wants no one to know about his return" this one murmurs.

Gaster nods the head without taking into account this declaration. Later.

In the toilets, Sans hasn't move. Still sitting on the ground, he seems even worse than when Grillby left him. Hearing the door opening, he comes to his senses with some difficulties. He turns the head towards the comers, revealing the left side of his skull.

"Hey..." He whispers with a broken voice.

Surprising the two monsters, Gaster drops to his knees, takes him in his arms and holds him tight against him.

"You're alive, you're alive…"

"Eh, of course I'm alive. What did you expect, huh? I could never leave Pap behind, me I… I…" Sans' voice is getting weaker and weaker until it becomes quiet. Tears roll over his cheeks.

His father moves away to plundge his gaze into his eyes.

"I love you Sans."

How many years has it been that he couldn't tell him that? How many times had they avoided each other, both of them? Impossible to tell.

Sans lowers his head. Gaster peeks towards the purple liquid. According to what Grillby learned to him, it's not hard to understand what it is. He clenches his fists. What did they do to you, Sans? He keeps this question for him.

He takes the body in his arms, raises it and asks the barman.

"Is there somewhere I can be quiet? With a table, if possible."

"The kitchen."

Grillby takes the scientific stuff and takes him to the room. Then, on his order, he leaves the two skeletons alone.

Gaster puts Sans on the table. This one didn't seem to have slept for several days. He is like a marionette with a conscious. The scientist passes a hand over his skull and observes him. For the cracks, he could attempt to mak some of them disappear with magic but for his exploded socket, no treatment could bring it back to its initial state. He grits his teeth but contains his rage; he needs to stay focused.

His eyes go down. There are some wounds to be treated, but without urgency. He makes him take off is tee-shirt. There, on his body, he discovers scars. His ribs were broken in several places and on different occasions, then they have been treated clumsily. Or, in other words, treated by a human doctor who knew nothing about monsters. Could it be the mark of the one who helped Sans escape? But, certain scars seem to be at least a few months old and others a few days. Questions later, the scientist repeats to himself.

Sans' pelvis has been shifted, maybe after a thump, preventing him from walking normally. He needs a surgery to put it back in place but Gaster didn't take the necessary for that.

He starts to understand. Sans was made to ingest anti-magic in small doses, to avoid killing him, but in enough quantity to prevent him from using attacks. The problem is that it disturbs the monster's body system even so, from digestion to breathing. The skeleton endured this treatment for a year but a little longer, and he would have been killed.

Gaster takes a deep breath to calm down; his hands mustn't tremble while he treats him. He manages to control his anger through one thought: whoever did this, he will pay, dearly.

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Sans is still far from being out of danger. (It would be silly if he died now - well, thanks for reading the fiction, it was short/SBAM/)

Don't hesitated to comment ^^


	5. I wish I could help you better

I wish I could help you better

When Grillby hears footsteps, he rises directly. Gaster closes the door of the kitchen quietly behind him and notices him. He joins him in the living room.

"How's he?"

"He fell asleep."

He looks behind him, where was Sans, then focuses again on the barman.

"He forced his soul to reject the anti-magic. It's destructive, but it's normal that it was the only thing he had thought of. I managed to stabilize his magic, and to manually remove the substance. It'll take some time but soon, he'll regain all his potential.

I have to operate on his pelvis. I will do it tomorrow, I just need to get the necessary equipment. I bandaged his broken arm too and managed to close some fissures of his skull but as for his eye socket, there is nothing left to do."

The two monsters gaze at the floor. Questions flutter in the air, but they don't dare to say them aloud: what happened to him? Who did this to him? Why? Is he out of danger?

The scientist sighs.

"I'll go by Papyrus' home to pick up some clothes. Thanks for taking care of him, Grillby. Thank you so much."

"It's nothing, he's my friend but… you really want to go now to Papyrus' house?"

"Yes, I know I won't bother him. It's been a long time since he can't sleep."

"No, I mean… given the state you're in, you might worry him more than anything else. And if you intend to operate on Sans tomorrow, you better get some sleep."

Gaster, who always took care to hide his pain, was getting now closer to the attitude of his youngest son: back crooked, hands shaking, the dark circles under his sockets due to the use of magic, face decomposed and wet, even though he seems to have tried to hide his tears.

He swings from one foot to the other then ends up sagging on the couch.

"Yes, you are right, Grillby. Thank you."

"You want me to prepare something?" He offers before remembering that Sans is still in the kitchen.

"No, I don't need anything. Could you just… tell me what happened?"

The barman nods. He takes a chair, sits on it and tells him everything. The more the story progresses, the more Gaster's face tenses up. When Grillby is done, the scientist thanks him. The fire man goes back in his room, the skeleton lies on the couch. Neither of them will sleep.

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Normally, _AfterHell_ is posted two chapters by two (because they are really short) but translation takes time and I chose to post directly when one is ready. I understand that it's boring to read in these conditions, I'm sorry.


	6. One more day

One more day

It was during a great party. Monsters had passed through the barrier thanks to Frisk three years ago. Three years that they lived under the real sky and that they observed the vastness of the world. Now, the idea that maybe they could go back into the prison bearing the name of Underground was unbearable. Their king, Asgore, had never ceased to hope for peace between humans and his people and Frisk had maintained the view to humans that they weren't dangerous. At last, it was finally granted to them the right to live legally at the side of humans, under the same laws. Obviously, there were still a lot of problems to be solved, and all the politicians hadn't had the monsters in their hearts but it was a first victory, so they all wanted to celebrate it.

It was a beautiful day. There were no cloud on the horizon, it was warm, a slight breeze carried away the music notes that monsters played. All smiles, people were having fun, dancing, eating, drinking. Hope was there. Frisk was at the center of these festivities, she who had supported them so much. She was living with Toriel, she went to school with the other monster children and had grown so much that she was now taller than Sans.

Yes, Sans was there, too. He was lazing around from stand to stand. He seemed finally appeased. Papyrus was happy, the monsters, filled with joy, he wasn't asking more. He enjoyed the party with his friends.

When evening came, there was one last show, then fireworks. When the moment to come back arrived, Papyrus looked for his brother, who must have fallen asleep somewhere once again. How annoying this habit was! It had been at least two hours since he had lost sight of him, he should not have been that far anyway. He wasn't answering his phone. This joke isn't funny. Sans, where are you?

He never found him.

Papyrus was sitting on a chair, in the kitchen. His legs folded over his chest, his head put on his knees. His sockets wide opened, tears still dripping from them, he looked through the half-light at a photo carefully kept in a frame, this one resting on the table. It shows the first monsters out of the Underground and the little human. They smile. Behind spreads the sky that they've waited for so long.

Soon, the day will rise. Papyrus hasn't moved since he got home from the bar and sat here, the day before. He's waiting. He's waiting for his brother, for more than one year, but this one doesn't come back, and the more time passes, the longer it seems and the more the skeleton loses life bit by bit.

He tried to do like his father, to bear, to stop worrying about others, to live again. He failed. Nothing affects him anymore. He sits down in the dark and doesn't move, crawling to carry out the living wage just to stay alive, as long as his brother still is. Because yes, Sans is alive. They can tell him anything they want, he knows he's alive. He just doesn't know when he will come back, or if he will come back one day. He also feels that he's suffering, and that it's kill him.

The sound of the doorbell makes him jump. His bubble of suffering explodes and he regains contact with reality. Like every time, a burst of hope embraces him, maybe it's his brother. However, the silhouette he sees behind the door isn't the one expecting. As fast as the hope comes, it fades away. Papyrus looks through the window; the day is barely up, so it's not Frisk that visits him before her classes. Undyne passes in the evening, so there is only one person left, capable to come at any hour: his father.

He stands up. His joints crack and he could barely walk because he remained paralyze in the same position far too long. He falls but catches himself awkwardly and crawls to the door. He opens it.

Gaster smiles at him gently. He still seems so tall, especially since his son has started to bend down. All dressed in black, he seems to have lost hope for ever. But, today, a little gleam is shining in his pupils, Papyrus sees it.

"Good morning, Papyrus."

He gets him into the house. This same house that used to be so well organized before is now untidy and filthy but no one dares to make the comment.

"I would need some Sans' things."

"… Again?" He managed to blow.

"Again, yes. The police need them again."

Papyrus doesn't ask any questions. Some people continue to look for his brother, it's all that matters. He had also gone looking for him but although the monsters have now a legal status, they don't have yet the right to wander alone outside the space they have been assigned; especially after the "Sans case", it was too dangerous. So they forced him to do nothing and as he didn't obey, Undyne had started to watch him, in addition to supporting him. Today, there's no need anymore, he doesn't have the strength anymore.

He climbs up slowly the stairs and opens the door of the bedroom of his brother. It had been completely finished shortly afterwards his disappearance, so well that he didn't use it nearly. Papyrus, however, spent hours in it.

"What do they need?"

"T-shirts, pants, bottoms…"

"So many?"

"Maybe they can find him through that."

He doesn't answer. The wardrobe of Sans was originally pretty empty, because his brother is too lazy to buy clothes. The police had already requisitioned some in the past and there is now almost nothing left. That's okay, he will get his possessions back when he returns. Papyrus gives to Gaster what he asked for.

"I will come back later" he promises to him.

His son agrees. Once alone, he drops himself on the bed, curls up and doesn't move anymore. He's waiting.

* * *

Just wait, for more than one year for the moment, for ten if he has to. I can't imagine his pain.  
First passage in the past! There's gonna be a bunch of others!  
**Important information: I will not post the 19 other chapters here** because it takes me too long (sorry for that) but you can found _AfterHell_ on _Archive Of Our Own_ and _Deviant Art _(where I also illustrate it) with my pseudo Naarci

Thanks for reading!


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